


Hospital

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: Crows Zero (Movies)
Genre: Hospitals, M/M, Scars, banter flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 14:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: Shibata sees a familiar face at the hospital and just can't help himself.





	Hospital

Hiroki Shibata hates hospitals. The blinding fluorescent lights, the bare white walls, the sharp smell. Mainly, though, he hates the waiting. The pain in his arm has dulled considerably, but the ache is still there, plaguing the back of his mind every time he attempts movement. Shibata had thought he’d gotten used to seeing Fujiwara’s face in his nightmares, yet now he’s aware it’s probably not the last he’ll see of it. There’s an odd sense of familiarity with the dreams at this point, though, waking up with the covers around his waist with his skin slick with sweat, trying to put out a fire that isn’t there.

The curtains around his bed aren’t shut, so Shibata can see most movement in and out of the room. Most of the staff give him his space, having already put his arm into a cast and told him to rest, even though Shibata finds the entire thing laughable. As though they aren’t fully aware that he’s probably going to go back out and get into more trouble, like most of the high schoolers around the area. They all give the same disapproving and unimpressed stares, as though they are any better than the people they treat. The way they stare at his scars makes him see red, wondering why they stare like he’s done this to himself, as though he’d ever inflict this damage on anyone, let alone his own body. He knows that his guys are piled outside, having waited to hear what the damage was. Part of Shibata feels guilty for having them go through it again, the process of waiting, trying to coax anything out of doctors who think you’re not worth their time or resources.

“Seems someone finally shut you up.” The voice is a relatively familiar one, deep and taunting. Shibata looks up and is greeted with the sight of Tooru Goura, sporting a bandaged abdomen with no shirt, covered up only by his jacket. As usual, he looks disgruntled.

“Hmm. Would say the same for you,” Shibata smiles, sat back comfortably, “but nothing does seem to shut you up.”

Goura gives him a sharp glare before seating himself on the bed next to Shibata’s, wincing as he does, his jaw clenched. He leans back, resting his weight on his elbows and sighing, staring longingly at the ceiling. Shibata is assured that he’s now not the only one eager to leave, regardless of what further damage it may inflict on his body. He’s not quite sure who has it worse at this particular moment, though.

“Seems we’ve had better days.” Shibata muses, itching for a cigarette. He’d always found it amusing how his injuries had never inhibited him from enjoying smoking, though he thinks it probably would’ve benefitted him to quit. Not that it would matter with most of the population of Kurosaki being heavy smokers.

“Speak for yourself.” Goura snipes back, sitting up once more and gritting his teeth. Shibata wonders what kind of fumes Goura is running on at this point, having been in one fight after the other and now suffering from a stab wound. His reputation has indicated that he’s not one to stay down for long, but it’s a different thing entirely to see up close.

“Stop staring at me,” Goura growls, his hair only succeeding in making him look more wild, messy as ever. Shibata feels his fingers twitch in response, wanting nothing more than to run his fingers through it, “it’s fucking creepy.”

“You only know I’m staring at you because you’re looking at _me_ ,” Shibata smirks, noting the way Goura’s jaw twitches slightly in response to his statement, his gaze averting, “no point looking away now, Goura-chan.”

“God, does _anything_ actually shut you up?” Goura sighs, though his voice has no real malice behind it, sounding more tired and strained than anything. Briefly it clicks in Shibata’s head that Goura is by himself, meaning he’d probably dragged himself here somehow.

“You managed to drag yourself all the way here?” Shibata stares into empty space with a thoughtful expression, looking back at Goura with an approving stare, “not bad.”

“I’m glad I could impress you.” Goura rolls his eyes, giving a slightly bemused look in Shibata’s direction. His eyes drift down Shibata’s half-open shirt, landing on the expanse of skin that was his scar, only a fraction of the actual damage. Shibata feels little scrutiny from the stare, although he feels a different kind of uncomfortable entirely. Goura’s stare is unreadable but his eyes are so laser-focused Shibata shifts under his gaze, before clearing his throat.

“Now who’s staring?” The question was supposed to sound mocking, amused, yet it comes out shakily and his voice is hoarse. He curses inwardly for showing weakness, reprimanding himself for letting anyone crawl under his skin.

“Me.” Goura replies, standing up slowly and moving towards the edge of Shibata’s bed, moving his shirt to the side gently, Shibata staying completely still due to a combination of shock and curiosity. Goura’s touch is feather soft, his fingers dancing across the edge of the scar and Shibata tries to figure out why it just doesn’t seem like it’s _enough_ for him, wanting Goura to actually touch him _properly_.

“Why are you-,” Shibata begins but is interrupted by Goura moving his finger up to Shibata’s lips, his relaxed and reassuring demeanour making Shibata more pliable to being told to be quiet than he ever would at any other time.

“You’re oddly blasé about your scars,” Goura observes, his voice quiet and purposeful, “but it still bothers you, doesn’t it? People staring at them.”

“Of course it does.” Shibata replies, completely honest in his acknowledgement, fully aware of his own limitations in a way others tended to avoid.

“Well, it shouldn’t.” Goura states dryly before moving back to his seated position, as cryptic as ever. Shibata can’t help but appreciate just how Goura the entire exchange was, a vague notion of acceptance with little sugar-coating or explanation.  Even in the hospital lights that throw everything into sharp scruntiny, Goura’s face is as handsome as ever, Shibata thinks. Goura’s eyes meet his own once more and he just smiles, like he knows why he’s being watched. So Shibata smiles back, leaning his head back on the pillows and just relaxing.

“Something you want?” Goura smirks, giving Shibata a look of unbridled arrogance, running his fingers through his hair even though it did little to tame it.

“Yeah,” Shibata grins, like a shark in water sensing blood, he strikes back, “you.”

Goura’s face shifts momentarily before he has a chance to obscure it, his eyes widening and lips parting as though he was trying to speak but couldn’t. Shibata revels in the way Goura’s eyes narrow and a flush starts to creep up his neck, which just seems to add flame to Goura’s fire. He stands up suddenly, no look of discomfort, standing beside Shibata’s bed with a face like fury.

“I suppose you think you’re funny.” He growls, turning Shibata’s chin to look at him properly, though Shibata knows it’s most likely because Goura can’t comfortably move him without possibly risking further injury to his arm or injuring himself in the process. When he kisses Shibata there is little eloquence behind it, more tongue and teeth than gentleness, yet it suits Goura perfectly so Shibata finds little complaint, finally getting to lace his fingers in Goura’s hair. Goura groans quietly when Shibata decides to pull on it, smirking at the reaction he elicited.

“Asshole.” Goura huffs when he pulls away, his hand remaining fisted in Shibata’s shirt. His hair is now even messier, his cheeks flushed and his eyes are unfocused and Shibata thinks it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He can’t resist the urge to just move his free arm up and gently stroke Goura’s cheek with his thumb, watching the way his expression softens under the touch and becomes less hard around the edges.

“Underneath all those ugly facial expressions you’re actually kind of handsome.” Shibata smiles sardonically, looking very pleased with himself until Goura flicks his head, hard.

“You’re an idiot.” Goura shakes his head, sitting back down.

When Kazeo makes an appearance, Shibata is only half aware of what he’s saying, too busy stealing glances at Goura where and when he can, knowing he probably only has a few moments before everybody parts ways and causes more trouble. When Kazeo exits, Goura gives Shibata a simple nod, standing at the foot of his bed.

“Don’t get into too much trouble,” Shibata grins, offering Goura a jaunty wave, “Tooru.”

“I won’t if you don’t, Hiroki.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is short but I'd intended it to be rather brief, wanting to fill in the gaps from their hospital scene in the film. Perhaps I'll do it as part of a series, I haven't decided yet.


End file.
